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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23094286">Storm King's Thunder: Help</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/valamerys/pseuds/valamerys'>valamerys</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Storm King's Thunder campaign fic [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dungeons &amp; Dragons (Roleplaying Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Guilt as an Extreme Sport, Mithril Hall, Politicians arguing as an Extreme Sport, The Landsmeet, There's a dragon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:34:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,719</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23094286</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/valamerys/pseuds/valamerys</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>At the Landsmeet, Marin volunteers the party for a fetch quest.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Storm King's Thunder campaign fic [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1659832</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Storm King's Thunder: Help</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Queen Alyssa of Mithril Hall has called a Landsmeet of leaders from across the Sword Coast to discuss the mounting threat of giant attacks across Northern Faerun. The Stormchasers attend as part of the Ten Towns' delegation, accompanied by an intelligent giant picked up on the way.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I have sympathy, o’ course, for Beliard and Uluvin.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Water Baron Khaspere Dryland stands at the front of the rows designated for his delegation, his broad hands braced against the railing. Casper, nestled at his neck, roves a long, curly tentacle across his jaw as he speaks. “But being newly appointed, I ‘ave a responsibility to protect my own people first.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marin worries at her lip, an indent there from her teeth. He’s the last of the representatives to speak, and she can hardly blame Dryland personally for his stance, but the response collectively has been… underwhelming. Maybe they should have brought more proof.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unless the provinces all stand together, Yarter will keep to its own,” he concludes. There’s a trace of regret in his features, but he inclines his head towards Queen Alyssa and makes to return to his seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His words settle, and for a few moments, there’s silence. Queen Alyssa surveys each delegation in turn from where she stands on a platform in the dropped center of the room, and her armored dress gleams in the light of the sconces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that it, then?” She asks broadly. The words are a careful challenge. Her voice is magnified, perhaps magically, louder and clearer than the delegates’ are, and it echoes faintly off the arches of the stone ceiling. She casts her gaze across the Waterdhavian representatives. “Have we all come together only to reach no accord?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few murmurs and a spare cough interrupt the quiet, but no one speaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marin leans towards Theseus at her side. “I thought there’d be… debate, or something,” she whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beneath his hood, Theseus’s disguised mouth draws into a grim line. “When you’re used to getting your way, you don’t necessarily learn to </span>
  <em>
    <span>debate</span>
  </em>
  <span> for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On Theseus’s other side, Rekhien rubs idly at his tattooed palm through the glove— something he only does when he’s nervous. Phyn, at the end of the pew, soothes Lulu beside him, as the wolf lets out a faint whine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If they want our land, let them come and try to take it!” Bruenor Battlehammer bellows, his dwarvish accent guttural. He eyes the room judgementally. “Or have we forgotten how to defend ourselves?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Defense is well and good for the cities with walls, Lord Commander.” Darathra Shendrel’s compact frame rises from the rows of the Triboar delegation, her voice clear and cold as glass. “But our rural communities have no such luxury.” When he scoffs, her eyes narrow. “Rural communities that, I might remind you, </span>
  <em>
    <span>feed</span>
  </em>
  <span> your walled cities, so perhaps you can find your conscience in your stomach if not your heart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprise ripples through the crowd, and Battlehammer throws up his hands. “What precisely are we meant to do, send our armies to wander the countryside?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the war hero here,” she says archly. “I’m surprised to find you afraid to take on a few giants.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dissent and jeers break out across the hall; Queen Alyssa makes a hasty call for civility that does little to tame it. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The landsmeet can’t go like this,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Marin thinks, her heart in her throat. Not when they’ve come so far and learned so much. She braces herself to say something, anything. Rekhien sees her mouth open and gives her a look of muted horror; the stakes are too high to speak out of turn here, and she knows she shouldn’t but she can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>not—</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We... know where Grudd Haug is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words falter, only half as loud as they should be, but Queen Alyssa catches it amidst the din, turns abruptly. “Who said that? Speak up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hundreds of heads turn towards the Ten Towns’ delegation. Towards </span>
  <em>
    <span>Marin</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Conversations fall silent as people crane their necks to make her out behind Ferrek’s guards, and she cringes. Her instincts grate against the attention, beg her to shrink back and let Theseus or Ferrek talk— how many times have Hafren and Zinah told her never to draw attention like this, to stay silent, keep to the shadows?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she isn’t a smuggler, she reminds herself. That’s why she left Neverwinter. That’s why she’s here, wearing her own face. Because the shadows weren’t enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stands on shaky legs, raises her voice. “I… um, my name is Marin.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferrek, wide-eyed, indicates the railing, and Marin obliges, stepping carefully past the benches. “My friends and I fight giants,” she goes on. Her skin prickles under the sheer number of </span>
  <em>
    <span>eyes</span>
  </em>
  <span> watching her. “And we’ve been to Grudd Haug, seen the settlement there. We know where it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Queen Alyssa hesitates, frowning. “Valuable information, but Grudd Haug represents only the hill giants.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marin opens her mouth in dismay, but before she can speak, another voice, from her left— </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I— I’ve tracked giants for decades.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phyn sounds as uneasy as she feels, and he shoots her a half-panicked glance as he moves to join her. “I know where the fire giants make their base as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The queen hazards a glance at her fuming uncle. “Even so, that is hardly the basis for a plan. We can’t ask—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then we get more information!” Marin blurts, before stopping to consider if interrupting a queen is treasonous. She stumbles at the thought. “Like— like Harshnag said. There must be something we can do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“YES,” Harshenag’s words boom again across the space from behind them all. “MORE INFORMATION. THERE IS A FROST GIANT TEMPLE— THE EYE OF THE ALL-FATHER. PERHAPS A WEEK NORTH OF HERE. I CAN SHOW YOU WHERE.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A beat of silence follows the giant’s speech, as if everyone has to take a moment to reorient themselves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More information would surely help,” Ferrek offers, and though clear in the Ten Towns’ section, it surely gets lost in the swell of argument that emerges simultaneously, the hall descending into minor chaos as dozens of voices ring out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—Expect us to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—Word of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>giant—</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—Other choices do we have—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Queen Alyssa surveys the crowds, and Marin recognizes the quick calculation in her expression even at a distance. “Who will go, then?” The queen asks, her enchanted voice cutting across the discourse. “To investigate the giant’s claim?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words bear no prejudice, but they’re cold, rhetorical, as if the queen expects no response. And there isn’t one. The hall falls silent and Marin’s stomach sinks. But of course— the delegations have traveled for months, none except maybe Waterdeep would have brought forces they were willing to spare. Except— </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Rekhien remembers the eyes of his nighttime visitor flashing orange-gold </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>in the darkness with a chill. </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Has your body begun to change yet?</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Theseus imagines he feels the heat of Helios’ gaze on him even though the mask; </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>wonders how many other people in the crowd can see through his own.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Phyn thinks of giants, minds the familiar thrum in the back of his skull from </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Harshnag’s presence. And suddenly it’s supplanted with the thought of his forest, </span>
  </em>
  <em></em>
    <span></span><br/>
<em>
    <span>of how close they were in Loudwater, and an ache blooms in his chest— </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em></em>
  <span>maybe he feels for the creature because neither of them belong here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marin feels a weight on her shoulders: of thirteen dead giants, of bodies in the road, and in the snow, and on a cold stone floor, and spilling out of a charred burlap sack. Of Theseus’s blood and Anya’s dying shrieks. Of old sins written in a monster’s hand. Of a god’s terrible blessing. What is all of it </span>
  <em>
    <span>for</span>
  </em>
  <span>, if they don’t do this? If they don’t help when they can?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll do it,” Marin says, and wills her voice to carry. “My friends and I will go to the temple.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t look to the others for confirmation. She doesn’t need to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whispers break out, bodies turn to confer. Queen Alyssa peers up at her, brow furrowed. “Come forward, then. All of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rekhien exhales sharply, but there’s a telltale creak of wood, and he and Theseus step, one after another, up to either side of her and Phyn, and suddenly the four of them stand before every power in northern Faerun. Marin keeps her focus trained ahead, her chin high, but even then there is something reassuring about the sense of Theseus next to her, Phyn and Rekhien’s hands on the railing near hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Queen Alyssa gestures for them to join her, and her dragon’s nostrils flare as they descend the stairs onto the carved stone floor of the arena. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Up close, the dragon is silver like old coins— a varied and tarnished gleam with an oil-slick rainbow sheen where the scales catch the light. The queen on her platform is nearly eye level with Theseus; she considers each of them as they assemble before her, and settles on Marin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She asks, not unkindly, “And what do they call you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marin swallows. “We’re the—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound-magnifying effect isn’t magic cast on the queen, she realizes; it’s uncanny acoustics, and she loses her nerve at the sound of her voice ringing out beyond her reach. Rekhien meets her eyes, and there is something inscrutable written in his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re the Stormchasers,” He finishes easily, unfazed by the way his words reverberate across the vast room, the murmurs they inspire. “The heroes of Bryn Shander and Mirabar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The queen clasps her hands before her and makes a thoughtful noise. If she’s surprised by the turn of events, she hides it well. “So be it. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stormchasers</span>
  </em>
  <span> will investigate this matter, and we will reconvene upon their return to hear their findings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One moment!” a familiar, oddly lilting accent cries, and moments later a furry head hops nimbly from the pews to the ground a story below, bypassing the stairs entirely. “I am going with you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The queen raises an eyebrow, but Marin lets out a laugh of delight. “Dandelion!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tabaxi sweeps them a deep bow, grinning ferally. “I guess this makes me a Stormchaser now!” At the sound of vague protestations from the Everlund section, he turns and winks theatrically. “Zaldin, my apologies, friend, but I </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> been looking for an adventure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even Rekhien smiles as Phyn clasps the tabaxi’s paw in welcome, and the queen seems to resign herself to it. “Then the matter is settled. The five of you leave as soon as we can prepare supplies and horses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dragon growls approvingly, and Marin’s shoulders feel a little less heavy.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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